The Hero
by CailinNollaig
Summary: Forgetting his past and all the horrid that has happened to him had been too easy for you; to push the demons under the carpet and walk over it everyday like it's not there. The problem is, he is THE hero.


_Cause I'm not your princess, and this ain't our fairytale. - White Horse, Taylor Swift._

There's a persistent niggling in your eyes as you fight to imprison those troublesome tears. It's bothering you that they're even there, but the fact that you're so close to allowing them all to spill out grates deeply on your nerves. He doesn't deserve these tears, he doesn't warrant this sorrow.

But when he's standing in front of you, desperation shining in those beautiful green eyes, you can't help but falter. You've never truly been able to refuse him, have you? Looking so regretful and full of pain – how could you be the one to cause that and not try to fix it? You feel stupid.

Perhaps you shouldn't feel so strongly against yourself, but you can't help it. There's a barrage of emotions that strike you down every time you think about it, and what seems to resonate above the rest is – how in the world could you be so naïve and _stupid?_ You've always thought of yourself as level, logical and completely reasonable. You have a softer side; a side that wanted to be protected, loved and cared for. You want security and someone who would look after you – to hell with what some call 'feminism', you want someone to look after you.

You thought you found it in him. He's not a hero; you're now aware of that. It had been nice to pretend for a while, to envision a life of simplicity and raw love. Maybe that is what this is though – raw love. It hasn't been catered to, or cooked properly, and soon it will go stale. You think it already has. But you put all of your hopes and dreams on this one boy as a young girl, you had pinned your whole future on this one bet. Ever since you were ten, peering up at him through your long red hair and fighting the ferocious blush across your cheeks.

You had overestimated him. You had thought him to be more than he is, you had tried to make him something he's not. You can't blame this on anyone else – and what's more, is that although you feel wronged by the world, it was unfair to him, too. You were harsh on him…. You expected too much of him. Forgetting his past and all the horrid that has happened to him had been too easy for you; to push the demons under the carpet and walk over it everyday like it's not there. The problem is, he is _the _hero.

"Gin, I – I don't know what…" His mouth is opening and closing, but he's certainly not saying much. The loss of his words echoes around the room, making you feel guilty and crushing your conviction slowly.

You were young and foolish. Now it's time to grow up, it's time to get your life on track and find something worth doing, and someone worth being with. A stab of regret twists in you as these thoughts process – because he is worth something. Harry Potter is worth a thousand men and then some, but you're not the woman to match that. You're not the woman to help him become the hero he is, you're not the woman to nurse him through sickness and health. Even at his healthiest, he drowns in his dreams.

Last night had been the worst. To hear him stumbling through the front door, stealing you from your sleep with an unnerving bang of the door. He fell up the stairs twice and each time made you recoil more into yourself, wrapping your thin arms tightly around your body. You're not afraid of him, he'll not touch you – but part of you is afraid of what he'll do to himself. These were the thoughts that occupied your mind. When he finally entered the room, his glasses were missing and his clothes were marred with dried muck. There could have been blood there, too, but you hadn't wanted to think about that. You were sitting up at your bed, simply looking at him, as he slid down onto the bedroom floor. The force of his bum hitting the hard, smooth wooden floors made you jump and then wince. You tried to return to sleep, but it was to no avail, and so you crawled over to him on the floor… That's when he broke down into tears. That was when he proclaimed his life to be a mess, when he professed his undying desire to flee and most of all – when he admitted to an increasing need to be alone.

Now, here, he's pleading the opposite with you. He is adamant that he can't be alone, he's crying out about your bond and he's going to guilt you into staying. This isn't love, you tell yourself. This can't be what people write sonnets about, what brings people to tears of _happiness_ and others to acts of great passion. You need more than this monotonous and simply _difficult _way of life.

Your life has become so damn difficult, and you'd be lying if you claimed to not blame him. You'd be committing a sin if you said you harboured no resentment. Truthfully, you have to leave before you can do something you'll regret even more.

"We're meant to me. Everyone says it! I'll stop drinking, I swear.. I—I'll get help. _Please._" There's a crack in his voice, an air of defeat in his stance and his eyes are begging you to never let go. You hate that you're doing this to him; he doesn't like being so vulnerable. Despite all this, you shake your head mournfully.

"I'm sorry." You're surprised to find that your voice is no more than a whisper. You barely hear it yourself, and you're only sure you said it when his head drops into his hands. He turns into the table and hides his face from the world, while you watch on with a crippling sensation of guilt and sorrow.

Those damned, delicate tears finally find the strength to push through your barriers and leave your lids. You wipe at them cleanly, then clear your throat and do your best to not sound like you're going to break down.

"I'm sorry I'm not what you need. I'm sorry you're not what I want… But this is it, Harry. I wasn't truly fair to you, to expect you to be a knight. But I need a hero - I just can't be one right now."

The look he throws you before he leaves the room burns into your memory and will never leave you; it seems to scream _you selfish girl._

* * *

><p>This is a re-write of my previous one-shot "White Horse". It's still uploaded, I have it there as a comparison of my writing, but I'm going to delete it soon. Sorry for the second-person writing, I may eventually change that. I just like that POV sometimes. Disclaimer for HP and Taylor Swift inserted here.<br>Reviews would be great thanks,  
>CN<p> 


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